To Mask The Dead
by Rabbitini
Summary: A few days after the ending of Season 1. From Graham's perspective. Graham finds himself in a hospital room and plenty of time to devise a plan on how to meet Gundam again. A story of how Graham becomes Mr. Bushido.


**Author's Note:** _This was actually written when Season 2 was just starting to air in Japan and before I knew of how Graham became Mr. Bushido. I was also playing off the idea that maybe in Graham's world, no one really recognizes him as Mr. Bushido even though it is quite obvious to the audience. So I apologize that this story no longer fits with canon._

* * *

Pain. It is a reminder that one is still alive and my body was thriving with the sensation. Most every muscle was aching, a few parts of my body had a sharp stabbing pain, and my head was throbbing.

The fact that I was feeling all of this meant I was still alive and that angered me. I wasn't supposed to be alive. I was supposed to be dead.

When I finally got control of all that I was feeling and became more aware of my situation, I forced open my eyes. Bright lights, white ceiling, and I was on my back in a bed that wasn't exactly comfortable. This could mean only one thing. I wasn't slowly and painfully dying, but instead in a hospital and slowly and painfully being brought back from near death.

This angered me more.

The next thought to rush through my head was the last memory I had before waking up just now. I was so angry then too and adrenaline was rushing high at the time. Face to face with that damned pilot.

You could say I lost it as next I yanked on some tubing that was nearby. I am guessing it was my I.V., but I didn't feel much other than a burning sensation on the back of my hand. I heard the sound of something ripping as I pulled at more cables and attempted to sit up. It was bit hard to with being sore, stiff, bandaged up, and bound in casts, but it didn't stop me entirely! I had every intention of breaking free and getting out of this sterile place.

At this point I became more aware of a few tubes I had overlooked, including one shoved down my nose and throat. I was reaching for it, but I was facing other problems. First, ripping hospital equipment from you leads to machines crying out with a high piercing tone that did not help ease my aching head. Second, this same tone called in several nurses and doctors and I was suddenly no longer alone. I guess it was a bit ridiculous to think that I could just storm out of the building in this condition.

Three nurses were coaxing me back down into bed and hooking me up to their machines again. By coaxing, I mean shoving me back and holding me down. Maybe all the medication I must have had in my system wasn't meant to dull any pain (as I was feeling much of that right now), but instead meant to make it easier to be handled. You would think I would be able to shove two women and a scrawny looking young man aside.

A doctor injected me with something. I felt the initial prick, decided he was the same, and most of the pain I was having began fading away. I stopped fighting them and simply concentrated on the lights above me. I believe the nurses thought I might be pulling some trick as they waited for a moment before releasing their grip on me. I didn't move. I found it amusing that the scrawny looking nurse took a loud sigh of relief. I think he was having the hardest time with me and that made me smile.

Everyone left except for one doctor who was half hiding behind a small blue monitor he was carrying. Most likely the doctor assigned to this sorry case that I am and thankfully, wasn't the one I labeled a prick moments ago.

"Do you know where you are?"

A ridiculous question. I never understood why doctors like asking it. I am sure there is some reason, possibly to see how aware I am of my situation, but I really wasn't in the mood to play their games. Of course, do I really have a choice?

"A hospital."

"Good." It almost sounded like he was praising some obedient lap dog, "Can you tell me your name?"

I sighed heavily before giving him the correct answer, "Graham Aker." as Graham Aker should be dead. I will probably be a bit bitter about this for some time.

"Good."

I expected him to ask me to tell him what I last remembered, but instead he introduced himself, told me I had been in this place for six days, and rattled off the long list of injuries I had sustained. Broken and fractured ribs, lacerations over my body, a dislocated shoulder, broken leg and, well, I stopped paying attention at this point. It wasn't until he said a certain five words that he captured my attention again.

"You're lucky to be alive."

Ironically those words had a calming effect on me. That or maybe it was the medication truly kicking in. Either way, I guess he had a point. Somehow I survived and I seriously doubt what happened up in space was anything less than suicidal.

The fight I gave to the nurses earlier was beginning to take its toll and I was starting to feel exhausted. My doctor was still speaking to me, but at this point it sounded like he was underwater. I just nodded my head a few times, acting like I understood all that he was saying and hoping he would leave for now. He did.

Being alone again, I could now take in my surroundings better. With my limited movement, it was really seeing what was to my left and what was on my right.

There was a small arrangement of flowers. Blues, greens, and whites. Beginning to wilt so I suspect they had been there for some time. I honestly can't think of one person who would want to send me flowers, so possibly something left by the hospital to make this room more cheerful? Unless Katagiri is truly wishing me well so that he could throttle me himself immediately afterwards.

The man cannot be happy with me after the stunt I pulled a few days ago. I am pretty sure I destroyed the GN-Flag in my attempt to destroying Gundam _and_ myself. All the money and time that went into constructing the mobile suit was wasted and lost. Union officials can't be pleased with me either.

Once getting out of here, I suspect they will use the excuse that I am not fit to fly and put me behind some desk. Even after I fully recover, I highly doubt they will ever let me get into the sky again. My actions in the past cannot go without consequence. Yes. But.

Gundam.

How can I be expected to sit behind some desk, staring at the sky through some window when Gundam is still out there? There were seven. Who knows how many more there are hiding? Watching. _Laughing_.

There is no doubt in my mind that the melee fighter pilot is still alive. If I am alive, then so is he. I just hope he is in much pain as I am, cursing my name, and knowing full well that I too am alive and that I will find him.

It is settled. There is no way to fight it. I know those above me in Union will never allow me to pilot again. More specifically, never allow Graham Aker to pilot again. To touch the sky. To dance with Gundam.

A new identity. I would need one. And even with a new name, I will need to come up with a new appearance. I have to change everything, cut my ties with everyone and start over. I am sure I can find another way to reach the sky and chase down Gundam to finish what was started six days ago.

The many days I will need to recover in this hospital should be plenty of time for me to formulate a plan, to come up with a name, and plot out my next move. However long it will take for Gundam to surface again, I will be ready. I'll make sure of it.


End file.
